Golden Bloodline by Richard Moorman

Author:Richard Moorman
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Old Fella Writes
Published: 2023-12-08T00:00:00+00:00

Restlessly, Raffaello paces back and forth, his agitation expressed through his sweeping gestures. Levi occupies a makeshift seat crafted from a log, his attention thoroughly captivated by the conversation unfolding before him.

Raffaello's voice carries animation and fervour, his words weaving a tapestry of vivid imagery. "Levi! The air at the meeting was charged and vibrant with energy. An assembly of countenances adorned with distinctive features and hues – a mosaic of men harbouring their stories. Their eyes ignited with fervent passion as they gazed upon the emblem of the Southern Cross. It was a scene evoking the spirit of the Crusaders in the heart of Palestine! Five hundred right hands extended towards that very emblem!"

Levi, his tone nostalgic, responds wistfully. "Oh, how I wish I could have been present to bear witness to such a monumental moment!"

Raffaello's words flow lyrically, like a river's gentle current. "Our flag soared with majesty, akin to a summit's peak. An impressive mast, stretching eighty feet high, straight as an arrow in flight. No standard from the old realms of Europe could rival the elegance of the Ballaarat Miners' Southern Cross flag. Against a canvas of blue, a radiant white cross adorned with five stars akin to those gracing our southern celestial dome stands as a symbol of purity and nature, unburdened by other extraneous emblems or symbols. Amid those armed men, the tenacious gold diggers hailing from diverse languages and shades, the sight of our standard held an entrancing allure!"

Levi inquires about the potential government response. "Do you believe this fervour will compel the authorities to heed your cause and bring about change? Or do you fear a sombre end?"

Raffaello's uncertainty is palpable as his words echo. "Levi, I cannot predict. I traversed a staggering 16,000 miles in search of refuge from the tyranny of the sword, only to be exploited on my first day at the Ballaarat goldfield. Amidst the rustling undergrowth nearby, a clamour emerged as I toiled in the soil. 'What's the matter? Your license, mate!' Such were the brusque words of a towering figure, a Vandemonian tough armed with carbine and bayonet. I simply presented my license, and he moved on. Levi, that exchange shook me to my core. The emotion is difficult to convey unless one has tasted it amidst the Gravel Pits of Eureka. That echoing call of JOE! – JOE!"

Pausing to light his pipe, Raffaello takes a contemplative puff before resuming. Raffaello's voice becomes a symphony of frustration and determination.

"To subject upright men to degrading and repugnant license searches is an affront. Some troopers exhibited a modicum of civility – yes, they bore the burden of their duty with a measure of shame. Yet within their ranks festered souls driven by malevolence, deriving pleasure from their actions, blinded by their insatiable greed, unable to witness the abundant piles of gold-laden soil left untouched."

Levi chimes in, his voice laced with empathy. "I have personally borne witness to those injustices, Raffaello."

A note of indignation resounds in Raffaello's voice. "Are

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